One Direction : Second Sight
by markmullins57
Summary: What will happen when the guys from One Direction cross paths with a suicidal non fan and terrorists while mystrious lights are appearing all over the world. It's got action, bromance, comedy and paranormal activites all. Louis and OC. NOT slash. Consider it an AU.
1. Chapter 1

Second Sight

A One Direction Fan Fiction

Prologue

_No one knew what caused the lights on the sky to appear, that much was apparent from the first. _

_Their origin would not become clear until much later. Their effects were as wildly varied as the theories for their existance. For some, they were simply a rather pretty phenomenon. Others felt they had sinister motives , some felt the opposite. And for others, they were a sign that something other than man just might be in the cosmos; that man might not be the center of the universe._

_Whatever their source, the lights had one irrevocable effect._

_The world changed forever._

Chapter One

Mark

I hate my dad .

A lot sometimes.

Especially right now.

Mind you, I love him most of the time. Seriously. As far as dads go, he"s a good one. He doesn't insist on knowing every move I make or asking what's on my mind every time I turn around. He certainly doesn't beat or abuse me in any way; if you met him for even ten minutes you'd realize that with Allan Mullins , violence just isn't his thing.

Of course with me, Mark Mullins...well, I don't like violence but it can be useful and even damn fun at times.

I sigh to myself as I look down as the half packed suitcase sitting on top of the red and white comfortor on my bed. A half dozen mismatched crew socks are sprawled across the bed, sort of looking like maybe a dryer threw them up. I hate washing and drying clothes. I swear to God, I think our washer and dryer eat some of my clothes, especially my socks, every time I put them in the flaming things. I reach down and wad the socks up and amd thinking seriously about just chucking the lot when my dad calls up at me from downstairs for the fourteenth time in the last half hour.

" Mark, will your please get a move on?" comes his all too familiar, somewhat nasal baritone voice, " It's a good two hours until we get to Memphis International and then almost that long to get through security and to finally get on the plane. It can't be that difficult to get your carryon packed." I head the thud of his already packed suitcase hitting the floor at the foot of the steps. Lucky for me, I hear his steps fade off instead coming up the steps.

I throw the socks back on the bed and walk across the hardwood floor to my beat up dresser and open up my sock drawer to get a handful more out. Considering we're about to get on a plane to move to my dad's new job as a associate professor of history at University College at Dublin , I don't see why he's so insistant that I bring all my worn out clothes with me. I mean it's not as if we can't afford to buy clothes once we get there. Or even a whole clothes store for that matter . For crying out loud, my dad is worth nearly twenty million dollars. And all it cost him was every single close relative he had other than me and my mom. She passed away for cancer when I was only fourteen and a half, three years ago. And in a sad way, she was indirectly responsible for us losing them.

Four months ago, we were deinitely in financial desparate straights. Both of my parents were teachers. my mom taught art and music at our local high school and my dad taught history at a nearby community college in Jackson , Tennessee. Mom got cancer and fought a year long losing battle with it. Dad was able to keep up with the house payments , just barely, but then he was in a bad wreck. it mangled his left hand and the extra bills tore the whole house of cards down. My aunt and granddad got together and arrainged a joint family get together of both sides of my dad's family at a big park on the edge of Jackson. Dad was the baby of his generation and everyone was willing to help him out. There were over a hundred people at the pavillion there when a gas truck, driven by a fool who was cranked up on amphetamines and having to detour through because of roadwork hit the kiss your ass curve right in front and sent the truck on its side. It went off like a fuel air bomb.

I lost two aunts, two uncles, my granddad, all seven of my cousins, all three of my cousins kids and twelve great aunts and uncles . Of the 103 Mullins and Lankster family members there, there were exactly four survivors not including me and my dad. Two were third cousins and the other two were so distant even my dad isn't certain how they were related to us. Me and dad had ridden to the Kroger down the road for ice, We were less than a third of a mile from the blast and it sent us into the duck pond when the light blinded my dad. He went running right into the flames. I didn't- I had managed to concuss myself when we went off the road. That's all that kept me from having that particular holocaust from constantly replaying itself in my head the rest of my life like every other thing I've ever seen.

That's my curse in life. I have an eidetic memory.

What's and eidetic memory you say? Well, most people have heard of a photograpic memory, right? Well, some people call that and eidetic memory but it's really not. Oh, I can remember everything I've ever seen or heard, same as with a photographic memory, but there's more to it . I can remember every smell, every taste and every touch . It's like having a flashback instead of a memory. And sometimes, if I'm sick, really tired or even dreaming hard, I get lost in the memories. My best friend Nate used to love telling people about seeing me sitting in a deer stand , petting the air and talking to my dead beagle George ( I used to put my dog in the tree with me , yeah, I'm weird like that sometimes) after I fell asleep watching deer play.

I remember everything good or bad that ever happened to me . I memember every ach and pain, every sunny day, every thought or emotion I ever had like it just happened. Schoolwise, it's a wonderful thing. Give me a map and I never get lost. Just don't ever try telling me you said something different from what you first told me . I hate that. Badly.

My wandering mind screached to a halt as a series of raps on my bedroom door jars me back to reality. Uh oh, it's the old man and he sounds pissy now.

" Son, for the last time, we're running late, " he says as he pushes the door open and walks in. I turn and semi-glare at him as he stands there, hands on his hips. As almost always, I almost flinch at how much we look alike in most ways. He's 6'1 , same as me. Kind of dark skinned, legacy of generations of "Black Irish" with several crossings of Cherokee and Commanche thrown into the mix a few generations back- when Dad's on the warpath it's not exactly a joke. Hazel eyes look back steadily at me through his glasses (thank God I didn't inherit his eyesight!) as he raises a hand to run it nervously through his back and silver hair . " Mark, would you please get it in gear ? You know I hate driving through Memphis as it is, " he says as he lowers his arm, glancing at his watch. Yep, most people use their phonnes to tell time now, not him. "We're going to hit all the traffic now." He crosses his arms across his chest and looks at me . I have to force back an urge to grin as I take in his outfit.

All green. It's like a leprechaun puked on him on St. Patricks Day. The hunter green pants and polo I can deal with, but his shoes are green, unfortunately not the same shade as his clothes . And his jacket is almost lime. Come to think of it, his watch band is yet another shade of green, closer to aquamarine.

" Just shut it, " he says, holding up his right hand in a warding off sort of gesture, " I don't need to hear fashion comments from my son who routinely looks as if he dumpster dives behind down on your luck Goodwill stores," he informes me, pointing at me.

" I look fine!" I dont' know what his problem is. I'm wearing a perfectly normal outfit, pants from AE, a plain blue Old Navy tee and some Nikes that've seen better days. " I hardly look like a bum, " I tell him, admittedly somewhat shortly. I huff , just a bit as I wait for the inevitable reply.

" Mark, you know I have people from the university coming to the airport at Dublin to meet us when we arrive, " he informs me, a definitely patient tone in his voice, " First impressions mean a great deal and you're dressed way to casual for meeting people I will be working with. Couldn't you have found better clothes to wear on this trip?' he asks, although the tone of voice makes it plain that in his opinion, I can't be trusted to pick out clean socks, much less possibly be up to the task of actually dressing myself.

I feel irritation surging as I start to argue, but then I realize that , just this once, time is literally on my side.

" I can change if you give me fifteeen or twenty minutes, " I tell him, best poker face firmly in place. I mentally cross my fingers, hoping he stays true to his usual type A personality. To him, it's darn near a hanging offense to be late. We're already behind schedule and his usual response is...

" Hell no! " he rasps, face coloring slightly as his left hand tenses into a loose fist for just a moment. " You've wasted enough time as it is. You'll just have to board the plane as is and maybe if there's a layover along the line we can get you something decent before other people have your taste in clothes forced on them, " he says. " Just grab your bag and lets get going. I'll meet you at the car." He spins on a hell and takes a step towards the door. " Just one more thing, " he tells me, looking over his shoulder, " I know when I'm being played for a sucker Marko. And you WILL be changing clothes before we get there, even if you have to put on some of mine, " he chuckes at me, a decidely evil grin on his face.

I can't help it, I bust up at the idea of me and him wearing matching outfits. " NEVER! " I tell him , " Besides, you're too fat for me to wear your clothes, you color blind old fart,".

Five minutes later, we're in the car, heading towards Memphis International .


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Louis

There are times when being in one of the most popular bands in the 21st century can be amazing.

Honestly, there is a feeling of constant incredulity to it. At times, it is surreal. It's like a dream that you don't want to ever wake up from. And the effect it has on other people ranges from amazement to, for some, indifference and then goes far, far into the murky waters of fan hysteria. I've had fans ask for everything from autographs to underwear and everything between (and beneath!). My family , friends, girlfriend , to them, I'm still Louis, Lou, Boobear, even the Tommer. Big brother, son , actually even, from some points of view, a loser. I mean, really, I didn't WIN on XFactor. I got tossed two times, got rescued, and then got sacked with the rest of the band at the very end. Third effing place. But I get to muddle through it with four of the best mates you could ever ask for as one fifth of a pop culture sensation. Ah, life with One Direction can be wonderful.

But then there are times when it reeks, rather badly . Like now.

Imagine going for a walk in the park , not even for a reason, just to do something. Then imagine being seen by a cluster of somewhat irrationally fervent fans. Also known as 1Directioners. And you have to be nice to them regardless of wheter they are behaving nicely or not. . I mean, the fans are who support us. We're not going to get too far without them, that's for certain. They deserve respect. Even if they are currently trying desperately to shred your second favorite coat to shreds to they can have a piece of it. And it doesn't always bother them if you lose just a trace of skin with it apparently. trust me, I've had the scratches and scathes to prove it. And at the moment , I'm trying Ivery hard to lose some fans who seem bent on adding my clothes, my hair and possibly other bits of me, several of which I'm particularly attatched to , to their personal collections.

" Louis, Louis! I just want a lock of your hair!" is the shrill cry of one rather portly teen as she lurches towards me, left hand closed around what seems to be a sort of largish pair of neon pink scissors, almost casually shoving a red haired , far slighter young girl onto the grass by the pathway. _Ohh, that"ll smart _, **I think as the poor girls chin pops into the ground hard. **_Ok Louie, time to get them calm before someone gets hurt, yourself included, _I think to myself, absolutely clueless as to how I am suppossed to accomplish that when to my shock and relief I hear a most familiar sevoice call out.

" Louis! Over hear!" calls out Harry Styles as he and thank you Almighty, two of our security people from Syco stride rapidly in my , er, direction. " Come on you slow arse, we've been looking for you for half and hour!" he complained as the threesome came up into the midst of the chaos. " Oi, Bruiser, Gruesome, help 'im out , would you? Come on, earn those princely saleries of yours, " Harry tell them, using our private nicknames for our two most scary guardians. Fortunately, the Snipper, as I decide on the spot to call my scissor wielding fanatic, is quite rightly taken aback by 400 kilos of angry rental cops.

Bruiser: " Go on little miss, Mr. Styles and Mr. Tomlinson have somewhere else to be. Now." He gives the rest of the group a intimidating (and unless you've seen a swarthy two meter ex Royal Marine try to be intimifating you just have not clue) look while Gruesome taps his not quite concealed baton meaningfully. The flock scatters quickly, barely audible comments about cavemen, trolls and bids for scraps from my coat fading as they scamper away. All of that is drown out by Harry's hooting that he calls laughter.

" Lou, I think that big one may've been planning on a quick circumsion, the way she was snipping at you, " he chortled, his trademark aubern curls bouncing as he slapped me none too gently on the shoulder. realizing I'm not responding to his gibe, he backs off a step . " Say, you didn't get actually hurt or anythin' , did you ?" he asked, concern on his face.

" I'm fine, just not really into this trip, " I reply, honestly enough, "I wish I hadn't let Niall talk us into going, but at least it's on private property . Maybe Edwina Scissorhands won't be there." I almost feel guilty for the comment as soon as I make. 99 percent of our fans are reasonable people. Unfortunately, the other one percent more than makes their occassional lunacies even that out. I realize just how petty I'm sounding and managed a weak smile at my best friend in the band.

" It'll be fun, " Harry claimed with confidence, "besides, the chance to meet all of Niall's relative at once? It'd make one brilliant show on Channel 4, " he widened his eyes dramatically, lowering his head and giving a absolutely awful impression of David Attenborough, " Behold the wild Horans in their native Irish enviroment. See how they balance the essential nutrients of barley and ale by consuming vast quantitites of both...", he glanced at me , pure mischief in his eyes.

Despite my ill mood, I can't help a bark of actual laughter at the silly fool. "Damn you Hazza, you win. Enough of my moping. Where's the rest of the Flying Circus at?"

" If you mean our worthy partners, they're already wating for us at the airport. You know Daddy, he almost went off his nut at the idea of being late," he informed me, referring to Liam Payne, nee "Daddy Direction", who's one of the most reliable people you'll ever meet. Also one of the bost inclined to go raving bonkers at the idea of things not going according to SCHEDULE.

" Horrors! What ever shall we do ? " , I tell him as Bruiser gestures meaningfully towards the curb where our driver is waiting. A sudden twinge of dread cathces me, prompting a quick aside to Harry. " Dear Uncle Si hasn't called , text, tweeted or anything about the trip has he? You know he hates the idea of us actually performing for free, ", which is both a gross injustice to Simon Cowell, who practically created OneDirection and a simple statement of fact. He's psycho like that. Thankfully, I'm reassured quickly.

" No way. Niall threatened to be "indisposed indefinitely" if Simon said one wrong word. Or to drop some vague hints about behind the scenes abuse at XFactor, hidden orgies at the judges house, things like that. " He smirked at me as I started laughing again. Old Harry. Always good at bringing me out of a bad mood.

" Bet Simon loved that. Oh well, better get moving before something else happens . Mullingar, here we come." To my surprise, Harry hooks an arm through mine as we walk towards the waiting car. " Harry, the flaming paps will have this all over creation, " I warn only to go quiet as he admonishes me with a almost painful clout to the ear.

" Belt up. You're such a moody prat today. 'sides, it gives them something to do other than ask about Elenor or whatever woman they've convinced themselves I'm banging this week, " he says disgustedly. In fact, he's got a point. Oh well, why the hell not. I pull him closer and we skip gaily towards the car, our hulking bodyguards resignedly trailing us.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Mark

As usual, the trip to Memphis was boring, to me at least. I've never cared a whole lot about going there even at the best of times. I mean, I barely knew most of my dad's mothers family. My grandmother passed away three years before I was born and my dad said that that side of the family was way too into each others business for him. To be honest, and not trying to speak ill of the dead, they all seemed slightly snooty to me. especially for people whose own parent were dirt poor. I mean, I"m not a psycho, I wish the accident hadn't taken them away. But at the same time, I was only close to like six people out of the whole three dozen or so of them.

The old man stays silent from the time we get on Nonconnah until we turn onto Airways, heading towards the airport. Well , almost silent. He cusses the gps a few times. I've never understood why he needs a gps in Memphis. It's not like he hasn't been to the airport here a dozen times that I know of. Eventually, we get there and he leaves the car parked. he's arrainged for a charity for deaf children to get his Envoy as a donation in his cousing Judith's name. She was close to him and my grandmother and he has no way to put the thing in storage indefinitely anyhow. I was accepted to the college at the same time he was hired so it's not like we're going to be going back and forth that often.

After the usual hour long trip through security, getting the fortunately sparse carry on crap handled and all, we start on the first leg of the trip. A short hour later, we're in Orlando, waiting for the connecting flight, an Aer Lingus to Dublin. THe first thing I do is turn on my phone. I hate not being able to play games or browse because of stupid flight regulations. I'm just on the verge of asking him what the devil Aer Lingus actually means when my phone vibrates for the first time since we left the house. To my immense surprise, it's my best friend, who hasn't spoken a civil word to me in almost three weeks. Before I can touch the phone, a dozen more text arrive almost simultaneously. This is not a good sign.

Nate Muhundro is my best friend, brother and at times even my guy soulmate. There's times when I couldn't have made it if not for him. We've been all but inseperable for thirteen years. he even introduced me to Kelly, the girl I would have happily married way too damn young. And he was there when I lost he, the worst thing I ever went through in my life. Even worse , on a personal level, than losing my whole family in the explosion. He stood by me though it all. Unfortunately, he's also right up there in my class as far as bad luck goes.

We had a mutual friend, Tyler. Nate was even dating his sister for a while. We all got to be really close last year. We went swimming almost obssessively. We drove all over the Natchez Trace. Hiked, went to concert. Parties. And then , s tragic accident changed it all . Nate and Ty were target shooting with Tylers fourteen year old brother James. Nate had spent the night there and we were suppossed to be meeting that afternoon. He and Ty went in to throw some clothes in the dryer. James had went in first and laid his gun, cocked and loaded on the laundry room table because he had to run to the bathroom. Tyler was on one side of the table and Nate was on the other. Nate went to reach to the dryer and tripped over a chairleg in the cramped room. He slapped his hand down on the table and managed to hit the trigger. Tyler took a twelve gauge blast straight to the abdomen from four feet away. He died less than two minutes later screaming "Why" at Nate. Nate was never the same person again.

The next three months were horrible. His parents meant well, but they were scared as much of him as for him. And it's hard to blame them. Nate is a big guy. Six foot and two hundred pound of solid muscle. He was obssessed with becoming a MMA fighter. He's been planning and training for it for five years. And he's great at it. I've had the bruises to prove it because nojthing would suit him but for me to train with him. The idea of actually loving to fight is foreign to me, but he's born for it. And his mood swings were off the charts. Holes punched in wall, car windows and people. I saw him atttack five guys at one time and it took me and two others to keep him from killing two of them.

He finally settled down somewhat after Sierrra, Tyler's sister, told him she forgave him, that it was an accident and that her brother James was just as guilty and that no one blamed him either. eventually, they fell back in and three weeks ago, he informed me that she was six weeks pregnant. I think he thought I'd be happy, considering our history. He was wrong. I told him in no uncetain terms that he was a idiot for knocking Sierra up. That he was 19 and she wasn't quite eighteen yet. Words followed and we finally got into a knockdown dragout of a fight at my house. We destroyed the living room, dining room and totalled the front door too. It took both of our dads and four cops to break the fight up. Even now, three weeks later, my left hand has two bruised knuckles and my black eye is just now finally faded enough so I don't wear shades.

Call me. Call me as soon as you get this. Please call. It's about Sierra. Call damn you. You fucking bastard call me. And the texts just get worse. I get a feeling like cold lead in my stomach as I try to think of the least gruesome possiblitites as I try to call. But it's no use. My signal strength is wavering badly . I can hear it dialing, but no pick up on the other side. All of a sudden, I"m practically blinded by white light coming in from the skylights. I squint until my eyes are all but shut as I hear other treavellers cry out. I stumble into a bench when I feel a strong hand grip my arm.

" Son, sit down before you walk into something, " Dad tell me, guifing me onto the bench. " I wonder what on earth is causing these weird lights. It's on every news outlet," he adds, pointing up at a nearby monitor in front of a KFC stand. " No one has an explanation, but it's happening all over the world." He stands up , looing up at the flatscreen for a few more seconds before turning back to me, visibly concerned. " What's wrong? You're pale as a ghost and you were before that flash of light. That's why I came back over."

I hesitate for a moment . He's not thrilled over mine and Nate's fight. Oh, he doesn't have any animosity towards him, just the opposite. he considers him a nephew. But he doesn't approve of teenage pregnancies, I can tell you. I hand my cell over to him. " Read this , " I tell him resignedly.

He fumbles with it a bit. He hates cell phones, especially touchscreen ones. His own is at least five years old, an old Pantech flip phone thats so tiny he can and has clipped it under his beltbuckle . How he keeps it running I don't know. His face goes blank for a minute as he starts reading, then goes slightly red. He reaches his arm out to me , holding my Iphone like you would a dead mouse. " You better call him and see what's going on. You'd never forgive each other if anything happened to Sierra or the baby and you two were still fighting and you know it, " he says, a tone of command in his voice. He leans back, propping on the black metal bench, reaching up with a tan hand to run his finers nervously through his hair as he adds, " and it's not like he hasn't been there for you plenty of times when you were an emotional wreck, ".

I fight back a quick retort born of a flash of anger. I hate it when people tell me things I already know. " I've tried twice, one a minute ago and right now, " I hold it up so he can see it's on speaker, " but the damn signal keep going from one bar to none. I can't get through." I shrug my shoulders as he looks at me. " I'd talk to him if I could." I scuff my feet on the tan floor tiles as he replies.

" I know. I just hate seeing you boys feuding. Anyway, accoring to the news, these lights are playing havoc with cell reception. It's not effecting the flights though. We've got to get moving. Our plane is actually leaving on time. Whatever Nate wanted , it'll have to wait until we get to Ireland. Good thing I added international calling to your phone so you could reach out to him, now isn't it, " he asks rhetorically, a quick grin on his face. That's my dad . I'm amazed he hasn't already intervened ; he hates drama. He wants me and the one close freind I have actaully speaking to each other.

I try one more time as we walk towards our gate but get nothing. Maybe I'll have better luck across the Atlantic.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Louis

"Will you get your flaming knees out of my flaming back, you flaming flamer , " isn't a phrase you hear often from our Liam Payne, but it certainly suits the occassion , considering Niall Horan has him pinned by the shoulders, Harry by the legs and I'm perched on his back while Zayn Malik is steadily videoing the whole shebang. I'm privately amazed the limo driver hasn't shaken the car even one time. You never know just how good these American drivers are going to be after all. " Say it Daddy, say it" I command as Nial pulls hard on Liams' thrashing legs. Ah, sometimes I love being bad!

"Never!" croaks the trapped man from Wolverhampton. Quite loudly for someone who's face is currently being pushed inot the floor.

" You're not going anawhere 'til you do boy, " Niall tells him as he leans over harder onto Liam , his fair face is starting to sweat slightly and for good reason. Liam may not be the biggest guy I know , but he's stout and determined not to give in easily."Akk, leave my goolies outta this, " Horan protests , half laughing as Liam tries unsuccessfully to yank his left leg free, hitting the bleached blond Irishman in the crotch with his size eight.

" I'm going to get SO many hundred of thousands of new Twitter follers after I post this!" Zayn cackles gleefully as he pivots for a better view. " I may at least catch up to Louis and You in followers!" We have a small scale ongoing rivalry over of Twitter followers. Poor Zayn usually has the fewest and this stunt was partially his way of boosting himself up. Of course, me and Liam have less than Niall and way less than Harry. Twelve million plus followers of that curly haired twit! Suddely, Zayn squawks as Liam manages to get a arm loose enough to grab his ankle and twist it! " Ahh, leave off Liam!" He jumps back hard in the cramped limo, colliding with Cuddles, his own personal bodyguard, who merely sits there laughing like a hundred and twenty kilo African Father Christmas.

Harry finally manages to secure Liams arms once more as I I begin to tickle my brown haired band mate. Liam purely hates being tickled and unfortunately for him , his girlfriend Danielle let the cat out of the bag there. " Come on Payne, say it loud and proud, I want to sing a duet with Selena Gomez for Disney! Admit it! Whoulf, ' goes the hairy Harry as Liam twist and Harry and I both go tumbling off!

" I will if Niall admits he's jealous of that little Ross Lynch, " Liam declares as he quickly snaps a headlock on Niall, who is still pulling valiantly on Liams left leg. " Give over Nialler or get aNiallated!" I don't know which causes Niall the most pain, the headlock or the horrid pun. Our Liam freely admits to being a bit of a nerd. Niall gives in, slapping the blue carpeted floor , blood red in the face.

" I love Austin Moon! He's the greatest!" Words you never think you'll hear from a grown man, i could laugh my assets off and do.

We haven't had much of a chance to do this sort of horseplay for a while. We've been on a sort of "microtour" of the US southeast for Sony and crosspromoting with DIsney. It's been a hectic week with the European leg of our tour about to be starting. We barely had time to even tour Disneyworld, much less get any relaxing done. Even Simon was only able to squeeze a few hours in with us. And now we're headed to Ireland for two days with Niall's family. Oh, some of our own families will be there too. They all got invited. Hrry's mom, Liam's sisters and my mom will be there. Zayns folks couldn't make it but gave him their blessings to go. Good thing. Zayns has deaths in the family since we started One Direction less than three years ago and maybe this will cheer him up. If Niall's family is as...entertainingly zany as him, it'll be impossible to be in a bad mood for long.

My own mood swings seem to be under control for the moment. Oddly enough, the more these weird flashes of light appear, the more level headed I seem to get. Niall is the opposite; he cringes whenever he sees them and Zayn is even worse. He's just a tiny bit superstitious and they, to use his own eloquent phrase, " creep the creep out of me". A regulaer Shakespeare is our Malik.

And our skeptic, Liam believes, " It's either a perfrectly natrual phenomenon of some sort or it's aliens. Either way, we can't do anything about it. Unless it's the effect of mankind on the enviroment." Which was what go Niall to shove him into the floor and got our little Royal Rumble started.

We finally make it to the airport and a tortous hour later, we're getting reaady to board Are Lingus to Dublin I crash into the first available chair, my hoodie pulled over my face. THe last thing any of us wants is to get a scence started in an airport. Bored, I look around to check out my fellow travelers. I can't help but notice one middle aged man .

He's got on a half dozen shades of green, for pity's sakes. He has a guy maybe a year or two younger than me walking next to him. He seems highly agitated about something. He's a tallish fellow, at least 180 centimeters with hiar as black as Zayns and very tan. Muscular build and he'd be handsome if he didn't seem to have only two facial expressions, scowling and sad. I notice how he seems to be ready to throw his phone in frustration . And I'd swear he was on the verge of crying out of frustration. He seems definitely stressed. I nearly jump out of my seat when I hear a familiar brougue whisper in my ear from behind me.

" He's either color blind or it's 'is first time going to Ireland, " Niall tells me in a cheery tone. " You gotta love the Yanks who go there, lookin' to reconnect with "the auld sod" and all that rubbish. All he's missing is a damn shillelagh and a big green derby, " he adds in amused contempt. And that mean lookin shite beside him has just got to be his kid, they look too much alike for him not ta be. Boy looks mad at the world." He plops into the chair beside me. Like I am, Niall's wearing a grey hoodie, although he's got sunglasses on as well.

We sit there and make idle chatter until we hear the boarding call. THen the five of us and our five security people , ( Bruiser, Cuddles, Gruesome, Smiley and Wilberforce) board the plane for what turns our to be the most important flight of our lives.


End file.
